Page 130 of LA King

I grind my teeth and resist stalking into the kitchen to tell her to stop wishing for her past. She chose this life. Alana knew exactly what she was signing on for, and she needs to learn to make the best of it. All she wanted was to be a kept woman, a spoiled wife who never had to work for anything, and that’s exactly what she is. So why does her sadness affect me so much? Why does it seep into my bones and leave me with my own sense of melancholy?

I guess she hasn’t yet had the opportunity to experience the trappings of the lifestyle she married me for. Perhaps a shopping trip will make her happy.

Before I leave, I scribble a quick note and slip it into an envelope along with my Black Amex card. Hopefully it’s enough to put a smile on her face, but I have no idea why that feels so important to me.

Passing through the reception area of my hotel, I nod a greeting to the concierge and scan the area for Jax, whom I spot near the entrance to the bar, talking to Richie Burnett.

Richie does some work for us in Philadelphia. Thinks he’s a big fish and repeatedly tells anyone he works with that he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.

I don’t either. It’s disrespectful.

But Richie’s a prick. I intend to make him wait.

Before I deal with him, I have more pressing matters on my mind. Hugo needed the morning off today, so Alana had to do her shopping trip with Hank, along with one of my longest-serving drivers, Jacob. I take out my cell phone and dial the latter’s number.

Alana called me after she discovered the credit card and note I’d left for her. She asked if she could buy a few things to make her feel more at home in my Bel Air mansion, and I agreed. Maybe I should have set her a limit. I don’t care how much of my money she spends, but I do care about her making significant changes to my house without my approval.

My house was designed by a professional, down to the silverware, and I dread to think what my Manhattan princess would consider more homely than her current elegant surroundings. From her attire, I’d say she has simple tastes, but maybe that’s because she hasn’t been let loose with my Amex before.

“Is everything okay, Boss?” Jacob asks when he answers. I rarely call him out of the blue like this.

“All’s good. Did Mrs. Montoya enjoy her shopping trip today?”

I can practically hear his internal sigh of relief. “Yes, sir. I believe so. She appeared very happy when she got back into the car.”

Very happy? Wonder how much that cost me. “How much of my money did she spend?” I ask, one eye on Jax, who is keeping our guest entertained judging by the raucous laughter coming from Richie.

“Hold up. She gave me her receipts. Just let me check,” he replies, and I hear the rustling of paper. “One hundred forty-seven dollars and seventy-four cents.”

“Do you have all of her receipts?”

“Yep.”

She had a credit card with no limit, and she spent less than a hundred fifty bucks? That can’t be right. “How much?”

“One hundred—” he starts to repeat the amount, but I heard him the first time. My question was rhetorical.

“Is that all?”

“Yes, Boss.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and think this through. It’s possible she only gave him the receipts for the items she took with her from the store and is having the rest delivered. Custom-made furniture and bespoke Italian shoes can’t be bought off the rack. Or maybe she prefers online shopping. For all I know, she could be blowing her way through a few million right this minute.

“Is she at home now?”

“No, Boss. We got back after lunch, and then she and Hugo left straightaway to go to her charity thing. She gave me your card as soon as we got back. Said she got what she needed.”

Jax glances over at me, probably already bored of Richie. I hold up two fingers to let him know I’ll be a couple more minutes. This is more important than Richie. “What exactly did she buy?”

“Umm,” he says, and I hear the rustling of receipts again. “A bottle of ketchup. A box of English breakfast tea. Four bags of gummy worms. Two picture frames. Two candles. Two bottles of bubble bath and an anti-allergen pillow.”

I swap my cell to my other ear, certain I misheard him. “That’s all?”

“That’s all,” Jacob confirms.

I thank him and end the call. What the fuck? I was sure she’d spend a fortune on clothes and handbags. Makeup. Shoes. Beauty treatments. A car. Fuck, I wouldn’t have stopped her from buying herself a new Lamborghini. But she bought candles and food. I must be missing some important information about my new wife, because she’s constantly surprising the hell out of me.

“Everything okay, Boss?” Julio asks.